


Rozhinkes mit Mandlen

by Miso



Category: SCTV (Canada TV)
Genre: (briefly depicted breast/chestfeeding), Babies, Lullabies, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 23:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13845714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/pseuds/Miso
Summary: Funnyman and newly minted father Bobby Bittman muses on parenthood, and he isn't terrible at it.





	Rozhinkes mit Mandlen

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAAAAAA YES!!!!! FLUFF!!!!!!! i love this family so much and i REALLY love paternal bobby. the title is yiddish for "raisins and almonds," the title of the lullaby bobby's trying to sing. most translations refer to the song specifically being about a mother singing to her only son which, yes, i did intentionally. dewdrop grows up to be just as trans as sammy and maybe bobby has some instinctual inkling, or maybe he's just lucky. :P there's a very brief depiction of a trans man breast/chestfeeding here, be aware if that's something that might trigger dysphoria!

Bobby had never seen himself having children for a number of reasons. He was cocky and vain and self-absorbed and just not a good influence. Hell, until he met Sammy, he never even saw himself settling down with one person. He liked attention and he could never get enough of it. One person just didn't have enough affection to lavish on someone like him.

If Sammy had been a game-changer for him, their daughter was a game-ender. Bobby felt an unfamiliar but pleasant tug in his chest the second he saw a little lime-sized spot on the fuzzy, foggy ultrasound and heard the soft, whooshy heartbeat of... god, _his_ offspring. Watching their not-quite-a-child-yet grow was magical. Every sonogram was an immediately rewarding little piece of visual evidence that the baby was healthy and growing safely, but almost more rewarding was placing a hand on Sammy's growing belly and getting a soft tap against his palm in return.

Sure, their increasingly-convoluted ways of hiding the evidence of their poorly-timed little tryst were frustrating and awkward (what could be hidden with loose clothing at first had to be covered with strategically placed pillows and, eventually, just kind of _seen_ ), but it was worth it for every time Bobby woke up in the middle of the night, turned to Sammy, and pondered the heart-and-a-half beating beside him. Hell, one night he'd tried speaking to their little "Rorschach" (Floyd, upon being handed a picture of the first ultrasound printout, commented that it looked like a Rorschach test, and it stuck) and gotten kicked in the nose for his trouble. Once they'd settled on the name Dewdrop, though, the baby settled down whenever Bobby spoke to them.

Seeing their baby in person for the first time, however? Bobby never could have prepared for that. The circumstances of Dewdrop's arrival were chaotic, yes, but seeing that squirming, wrinkly little pink... thing placed on Sammy's chest by William B. (what a trooper, good God! Bobby owed him at least 10 bottles of nice booze or something), safely wrapped in her Uncle Skip's jacket? Bobby felt like a rhino kicked him in the face with paternal pride. Waiting until they reached a hospital to hold her for the first time was the hardest thing he'd ever done, not exactly willing to interrupt the bonding time every single book and parenting class he'd taken in the preceding nine months was so important between newborn and "incubator" (all the books used "new mother," and naturally, Sammy had physically recoiled and insisted upon his own, much goofier term).

Then a nurse placed Dewdrop in his arms- bathed, diapered, swaddled in a pink blanket, and thoroughly fussy from the cold scales and stethoscopes and even the warm bath water- and Bobby immediately teared up. She relaxed and stopped her crying the second she was secure in her father's arms. Then Dewdrop looked up at him for the first time, and Bobby could have sworn he was going to faint.

Her eyes were the exact same color as his, a deep earthy brown. She had a crop of curly black hair on her little head- inherited from both of her parents, but the loose curls were more reminiscent of Sammy's hair- and she'd gotten Bobby's nose and face shape and good God, if she hadn't come out of Sammy not 30 minutes prior, he'd think he just cloned himself.

Her little hands gripped Bobby's fingers with the strength of a thousand men, and she protested quietly when he settled in beside Sammy's bed and passed her to her other father. He couldn't take his eyes off of either of them. Sammy, pale and exhausted from a 13 hour labor and harrowing birth, still glowed with pride, gently stroking a finger over Dewdrop's chubby little cheek and whispering to her; quietly enough that Bobby couldn't hear him, but loud enough that the tone of his voice told him that he didn't need to. A nurse urged Sammy to get some rest, then popped back in after he'd dozed off to show Bobby some of the basics of parenting- changing a diaper, feeding, burping, all of that- which he'd hoped would come natural but just didn't seem to. Dewdrop utterly refused to take a bottle, squirming and crying whenever Bobby tried to give her one. The nurse reassured him it wasn't that unusual; "Sometimes they just ain't fans of anythin' but the tap, so to say. She'll prob'ly outgrow it," the sweet old lady had intoned in her thick Southern accent.

About a month in, and Dewdrop hadn't outgrown it yet. In all honesty, that was okay. In fact, Bobby kind of looked forward to those middle of the night feedings. A quiet, intimate moment between his two favorite people. Sometimes he felt okay "imposing" by being in the room and sometimes he didn't. But god, he just liked watching, when Sammy let him. Dewdrop, cradled safely in Sammy's arms, and Sammy more often than not half asleep. The only sounds were Dewdrop's quiet little gulps and soft breathing, like the new parents were afraid to disturb their little princess.

"She done?" Bobby whispered as Dewdrop made a quiet noise. As if she understood what he was saying, their baby unlatched and cooed softly.

"Think that's a yes." Sammy yawned and handed Dewdrop off to Bobby. "Gimme a sec and I'll burp her," he mumbled drowsily, fumbling with the buttons on his pajama shirt momentarily. Bobby watched quietly for a moment, then cut in.

"I'll take care of her, sweetheart."

"... You sure?"

"You're tired. Go back to sleep. I got her." Bobby rose, careful not to jar the baby in his arms, and smiled warmly at Sammy. "I've made it a month and haven't killed her yet. I think I can take care of her 'til she goes back to sleep."

Sammy acknowledged him with a quiet grunt before curling back up in bed and immediately dropping off once again. Bobby chuckled quietly and crossed into the nursery, grabbing a burp cloth and placing it over his shoulder. "Alright, kiddo," he murmured, settling Dewdrop over his shoulder. "You know the drill." Rubbing soft circles on his daughter's back, Bobby yawned softly and focused on counting the number of little duckling designs on Dewdrop's blanket. A tiny belch sounded over his shoulder, and Bobby smiled a little. "There we go."

Lowering Dewdrop into a more standard cradling position, Bobby gently- so unbelievably gently- brushed a dark curl off her forehead. "God. I can't believe I helped make you." He teased a finger into her palm and felt pride well in his gut when she gripped it tight. "You're just... so perfect. I love you so much." A pause to look her over. One more time, he counted all of her little fingers and toes. 20 in total. 10 of each. He'd done that more times than he remembered in the last month. "You know, you and your Pops mean the world to me. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to either of you."

Bobby paused as Dewdrop yawned and snuggled in close to him. God almighty. Tears briefly pooled in his eyes before he took a deep breath and wiped them away. "Don't worry. Don't ever worry. I'll be here. Always. I promise." A shaky smile. Dewdrop relaxed and her breathing steadied. She wasn't totally asleep yet, but she was close. Bobby chuckled quietly, stood, and walked in circles humming the bits of a lullaby his mother sang to both him and Skip that he remembered; something about trading in raisins and almonds. He felt like Mama Slansky probably wanted her sons to be doctors, lawyers, or businessmen. Ah, well. Success was success.

He was pretty sure the lullaby was about a boy, in retrospect, but it didn't matter much. He barely remembered it; all that Bobby could really recall was the melody and bits of the lyrics. His Yiddish was a little rusty, anyway, but laying Dewdrop back in her crib, he whispered as melodically as he could, _"Shlof-zhe, Yidele, shlof,"_ as she visibly drifted off.

Bobby gave a quiet, content sigh, stroked his beloved daughter's hair, and turned to return to his beloved fiance's side. He'd never imagined himself having kids before, but now, he wouldn't trade it for the world.


End file.
